Queen Takes Rook
by ThebigW
Summary: [Complete]Before Dio's tragic end, he faced the horror of the ritual before the Rite of the Covenant. The Maestro DelPhine's feelings for her brother among other things important to her, are examined before we observe his final moments.
1. Queen's Gambit

Last Exile is owned by Ganeon(Pioneer). I remain in awe at the characterizations captured and presented in this wonderful work of animation.

This takes place during the "Rook Dio" episode.

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"Where are Dio and Alex? Can they eat with us?"

The Maestro looked upon them both with barely concealed disdain, like a bored cat lazily toying with its catch. By now, the Sylvana was falling to earth in pieces, of that she was certain. She would deal with Alex soon enough. She smiled wanly, almost wearily at them. Alvis was so adorable, but sadly, she was also flawed. Such a waste. Claus' attempts at bravery, at equanimity in the face of her overwhelming power, indeed, in the face of her ability to raise her little finger and have him put to death instantly, were pathetic, almost laughable.

It was also slightly insulting.

She swallowed her mild fit of anger as she rubbed a delicate hand across the baby-soft, powder-white skin of her cheek. She needed to remind herself why she was even breathing the same air as these two. House Hamilton had fallen to the lowest caste among the Guild, effectively making this girl worthless beyond the task at hand. Indeed, knowing Alex as she did, she had used the girl as a shield when he tried to assassinate her in the hangar of the Sylvana. Perhaps a bit reckless on her part given the girl's potential value, but oh, so much _fun_. Her action caused him to hesitate just long enough for Cicada to put an end to his act of futility. That man Rowe was just _so_ predictable. And this boy, Claus... well, she could only stand to keep him in her presence because of the girl. If Alvis were to become too disoriented because of her fear, her nervousness, she might not correctly recite the Mysteria. That would _not_ be a good thing.

She again became irritated as she considered how much effort she had exerted to this point to keep this plan alive, even stooping so low as to set her esteemed personage upon the Sylvana, that flying piece of trash.

'Look at them, ignoring the finest delicacies placed before them.'

Did these two understand exactly _who_ had invited them to share this meal? Were they simply too stupid to realize that they should be fawning over her every exhalation, that they should be raised to the heights of ecstasy by merely being in her presence? Should she have been surprised? And she had even dressed them up in Guild finery, hoping to impart some semblance of taste and class. Perhaps the adage was true. Perhaps one could not turn a crow into a dove. He was nothing but a dirt-crawler, after all, raised to this station by her whim.

To observe all that she was, _and all that he was not_.

Dio's friend, indeed.

She sighed softly. No matter. After Alvis recited the four Mysteria and released the power of Exile into her hand, she would have Cicada make them both but a fleeting memory. Or better yet, why not Lucciola? That would be oh so much more fun! She smiled once again, her true intentions hidden by eyes the color and temperature of ice.

Those eyes flitted from the upset, frightened girl to the boy who was still trying much too hard to be something he clearly was not, so far above his station as he now was. She had to contain her emotions once again as she considered the waste of her magnanimity upon these two.

Ah yes, she reminded herself once again. Exile.

Oh well. The most delicious truffles could only be obtained by training pigs to rummage through the dirt and muck, not that _she_ had ever performed such a lowly, disgusting task. That was for those destined to life on a far lower level, and they rarely, if ever, concerned her. The outcome of those tasks was another matter.

She owned the world.

Everything under creation was made for the benefit of the Guild, and, through it, ultimately for her. Dio, her dear brother, was but a tool to be used, like everything else, to retain the power she held in her hands. Before today, even he had been almost useless to her. Such a fool, giving away the Eraclea Mysterion so blithely. She actually felt a wave of self-pity at the thought that no one really understood her, or how difficult it really was to wield power properly. The beneficiaries of her living among them, above them, were clueless to their great good fortune. Her brilliance, her elegance, her beneficence, were lost on all but a few.

But of course, how could they possibly conceive above their limited abilities? She was the Daughter of Heaven, sent to mingle among all these lowly creatures for whatever divinely inspired reason she could not recall. Prometheus brought fire to man; surely she was subjected to this existence for some equally distinguished, importunate purpose. When she had control of Exile...

Dio? Ah, yes...

&&&&&&&

Dragged against his will down the path of the double-helix toward the chamber, Dio became hysterical. He knew that once inside, his DNA would be altered irrevocably. His consciousness, his memories, his free-will, his fears, his... _loves_, all those things that took years to nurture, to develop, things that made his personality unique would be ripped away.

They were killing him.

Why, Cicada?

"No, I can't!"

"This is your destiny." Cicada urged. His grip on Dio's arm tightened.

"No! I wan't to stay who I am! Please let me go!" Dio struggled.

"Cicada, please don't do this to me!"

The portal to the chamber loomed closer. He became frantic.

"Lucciola! I'll call Lucciola! He'll save me."

Twisting.

Struggling.

Not... strong... enough.

Why was this happening?

"Lucciola! Lucciola!"

As far into the past as he could remember, even when they were children, Lucciola _always_ came when Dio called out, when he needed him.

But not this time. Dio tried, but could now no longer even feel Lucciola's presence. That last piece of the foundation upon which his entire reality had been built was now gone, leaving the gaping hole of the unknown in its place, for Dio to face.

Alone.

The doors of the chamber opened, like the mandibles of some giant insect waiting to devour him.

Terror.

Scream.

Cicada and his assistant threw Dio onto the floor of the chamber and made their exit as the doors closed before he could follow them.

Darkness.

Outside, the Guild priests continued to chant.

&&&&&&&

A/N: This short fic is my gift to those who reviewed my last LE effort, and asked for another story. There will be one more chapter.

Next: The last sentient moments of Dio's life as he is "put to death" before the Trial of Augunne.

W.


	2. A New Pawn

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Alone.

Dio sat up on the floor, rubbing his upper arm where it throbbed, where Cicada had grasped it a bit too tightly. He strained his eyes but could see nothing.

Shifting himself onto hands and knees, he crawled over to the where he thought he remembered the door to the chamber might have been. Feeling up and across the wall for the seam that he knew had to be there, he got to his feet, and began to hammer his fist against the cold metal.

"Cicada!"

He was startled as his voice echoed within the chamber. The thought that the chamber was too small to have a natural echo of that level of reverberation flitted across his mind before being trampled by thoughts of escape from this confinement.

"Cicada! Please let me out!"

He continued to strike the wall with his fists, the dense metal effortlessly swallowing that sound.

"Lucciola!"

Again, as his own voice reverberated in echo, he considered the name that had become as familiar as his own. It occurred to him that if that was how he sounded to his long-time friend and attendant, he would have to change. He decided he didn't like the edge of arrogance of that sound. Had he taken Lucciola too much for granted? He resolved that if he could figure a way out of here, and if he ever saw Lucciola again, he would never use that voice to address him.

Dio slowly made his way in the pitch blackness along the wall until his fingers detected the seam where he guessed the entrance must be. The crease was too small for even a fingernail to split. He had no tools; his scabbard and blade had been taken from him by Cicada. What to do?

He placed an ear against the seam in hopes of picking up any sound from outside. What he heard was the faint modulation of the chanting priests.

'What are they..?'

Without warning, the inside of the chamber was bathed in the brightest light he had ever seen. Dio squinted his eyes shut before he was blinded. Simultaneously, the area on his forehead where his marking was displayed began to throb painfully.

And the room began to heat up.

In mere minutes, it became hotter than he had ever experienced in his life. Quickly, he shed his outer garments, and folding them, used them as a cushion to sit cross-legged as the temperature continued to rise. He held his sides as the dry heat pulled the moisture from his skin; the very air became stifling. As he concentrated on modulating his breathing, he felt it.

'What..?'

Subtle at first, the force that emanated from behind the symbol on his forehead tried more and more to delve into his mind. They were inside his head? The priests were, in fact, attempting mind-control in an effort to remove his consciousness from the vessel they required, a prerequisite before the chamber could function properly and completely. So this was how it happened. Dio remembered other Guild youth who had gone through this process, and how it had changed them. His breathing became deeper and faster as he realized exactly how he was to be taken. He wouldn't let it happen.

'No! You won't!'

He mentally fought back, willing his mind and body to remain under his control. They attacked. He defended. They attacked again. And again. It was exacting. Each time he thought he had succeeded in subduing them, in getting them out of his head, he relaxed out of exhaustion, only to have the assault begin anew. After half an hour of effort, his body was beginning to dehydrate as the sweat from the battle trickled down off of him. He couldn't see it, but the symbol on his forehead was starting to change.

Outside the chamber, the priests continued their relentless attack, but Dio was strong, and as he defended himself, the weakest among them soon faltered, and then passed out completely, dropping to the floor. That one was removed from the line, but quickly replaced.

Another half-hour.

Another fallen priest.

Dio was tired, and his head hurt, but he was starting to feel victorious, and that gave him the will, the strength to continue to fight.

Then the lights went out, and the heat quickly evaporated.

It became cold in a matter of moments, very cold.

Dio quickly put on his clothing as the temperature literally dropped beyond minus 10 degrees Celsius. He was distracted for just a moment as he felt about in the darkness for his footwear, but that moment was enough. He felt the force inside his skull return in relentless fashion, and he clutched his head in his hands as he fell forward onto his elbows and knees.

'You won't succeed! Do you hear me? I won't let you!"

He balled his fists and shook them even as his body heat evaporated by the second.

"I... will... not!"

They wouldn't freeze him to death, of that he was certain. His sister wanted him very much alive. His loving sister. Wrapping his arms about himself, and using every ounce of energy he could muster, the symbol on his forehead reverted back once again, and he fell over to his side, panting from the exertion.

Another priest succumbed and collapsed. He was quickly replaced, and the chanting continued unabated.

&&&&&&&

"My lady, it has been three hours now. This is unprecedented in our history."

Cicada bowed before his liege as he awaited her response. His duty, indeed his sole purpose in life was to impose her will, to make her slightest flight of fancy become manifest in this world. Knowing as he did her potentially mercurial nature, he prided himself on his ability to intercept and interpret data before it reached her, in the hopes of presenting her with only usable information of the highest integrity. She was his queen, his goddess. She must suffer no stress, no upset. But this...

DelPhine leaned over from her seated position and lightly caressed the side of his face.

Cicada inhaled sharply at her touch. That was totally unexpected! She smiled as she watched the emotions play across his face, knowing as she did the power she held over him. Power that went beyond that of rank. Power over his very heart. She pondered for a brief moment exactly when it was she realized that his efforts on her behalf had crossed the line from mere duty to motivation by an even more powerful force. An emotionally driven force. A self-satisfied smile briefly lit her refined features. Of course his feelings for her ran deep. Weren't all males, and more than a few females, stricken once they beheld her unearthly beauty? For the briefest of moments, the normally stoic, calm Cicada knitted his brows and color rushed to his face as his emotions overwhelmed him.

Just as quickly, his placid demeanor returned. He almost cleared his throat, but caught himself at the last moment. Delphine considered following that train of thought, but relented to more pressing matters.

"So, Dio is far stronger than even I surmised? My dear brother. This is quite a surprise."

"Yes, my Lady. Already, seven priests have been felled by the power of his will. Perhaps..."

"Seven, did you say? Well, wonder of wonders. He is indeed amazing."

She lifted her gaze over to where Claus and Alvis stood. Lucciola stood with his back to her, keeping a continuous eye on their two "guests". He heard Cicada's news, as had they. Claus knelt to Al and placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"Did you hear that, Al? Whatever they're trying to do to Dio, he's fighting back. I'm sure that everything is going to be o.k., understand?"

He spoke as softly, as soothingly as he could under the circumstances.

Al's tears had already spotted the front of her outfit. She didn't like that they had taken Dio away. She didn't like that she was here, on this ship, in DelPhine's presence. She didn't like the pained look on Lucciola's face, the look that he showed only to Claus and herself, completely changing it when he turned back to face the Maestro.

She didn't like the thought that _Claus could die_ trying to keep his promise to her, which was to protect her at all costs.

That thought, the notion that Claus could die, and soon, kept feeding on itself as she just couldn't shake it. First Dio, then Claus. They would try to make her recite, or something else would happen, and he would try to intervene, to protect her, and then they would kill him. She looked up into his eyes, her heart a trip-hammer threatening to break out of her chest as she beheld the look of anxiety and concern there. She could see it coming. She clutched onto his shirt, fearing that if she let go, he would be spirited away, and she would never again see him alive.

"Oh, Claus..."

She had done as he had asked. She tried to be brave, but it wasn't working anymore. Claus pulled her to himself, cradling the trembling girl in his arms. He looked up at Lucciola, who quickly averted his gaze from the pair.

DelPhine casually observed the goings-on and decided that she should examine this new development further. The hand that caressed Cicada's cheek cupped his chin and drew his face up until his eyes met hers. He almost blinked, blinded as he was by this novel experience, this proximity to the force of her personality.

"What do you think we should do, Cicada, dear? Have I made a mistake? Perhaps I should put an end to this and release Dio immediately?"

Lucciola's posture straightened markedly at that comment, and she observed this out of the corner of her eye. He turned his head slightly as he strained to hear more. Of course, she thought.

"Lucciola. What do you think? Should I release him?"

"My Lady..."

Lucciola turned to face his queen and bowed deeply, partly in an attempt to hide his reddened face, and partly to regulate his breathing, as his breath literally caught in his throat at her announcement. His mind spun through an infinite number of scenarios that could arise from his response to her. She could be baiting him to test his loyalty to her. That was the most likely outcome of this situation.

Or.

She... could be considering _actually_ _setting Dio free_. How should he reply? He could still feel the sting of Dio's strike on his cheek. In his mind, that was not nearly enough punishment for what he had done. The perfect outcome of his disloyalty should have been his death at Dio's hands. Things had happened too quickly then, and in too small a confined space, there on board the Sylvana. Lucciola would have handed over his ceremonial dagger, the very one Dio had given him as a gift, and begged Dio to put an end to his life. Whatever might have been the outcome of that request he did not know, but anything was better than the hell he was living through right now. But now, Dio's very life hung in the balance.

Did he dare hope against hope?

Something Dio once said to him came back.

"Lucciola, if you feel something, show it on your face."

"Lucciola, I believe I asked you a question." She said smoothly.

He raised his face from his bow, and his feelings, his true feelings for Dio were clearly displayed through his expression. Delphine was her royal highness, the sun and the moon of the world in which he lived, and he would gladly serve her in any capacity.

But Dio. He... He _loved_ Dio.

"My Lady is wise beyond measure. She is also..."

"Let him go!" Claus interrupted, torn between his angst over his friend's disposition, and Al's safety.

"Let Dio go!" Al felt his grip on her tighten, and gasped.

'Please, Claus. Don't let her take you away from me.' She silently begged. Her fists were starting to ache, she was clutching onto him so tightly. Lucciola silently thanked Claus for that outburst, which echoed his sentiments exactly.

DelPhine briefly considered responding, then turned her attention back to Cicada. Still lifting his face by the chin, she brought her own face to within inches of his.

"My dear Cicada, what, oh what, shall I do?"

Caught within those hazel eyes, Cicada fought their pull for a moment before he responded. He considered that she was toying with him, with all of them, as was her privilege. He didn't hate Dio; he just never saw much potential in him before today. Dio had been always the spoiled, pampered dilettante, whom Cicada had merely tolerated. That Dio could defend himself this vigorously meant the boy was possessed of something special, and Cicada had discovered a new-found respect for him.

"My Lady, I will not lie to you. His desire is strong. I do believe he would serve you in a far greater capacity were he not to undergo the change. He..."

Cicada stopped speaking because, for a fleeting moment, he swore that something had replaced the simmering, ice-cold intensity of those hazel eyes. A flash of warmth, of... compassion? Regret? Did he imagine it? Was she considering..? Could she actually be second-guessing her original decree?

Briefly, her brows knit... _in_ _uncertainty? _Cicada was actually at a loss as to how to proceed. This was a first since he had ever known her. She was... asking him to... _to help her decide?_

He had to carefully choose his words if this was indeed the case. This was exceedingly difficult. Being a soldier, trained to kill upon command was one thing. Offering advice of this order of magnitude? He possessed some court savvy, but was nowhere near expert. What exactly should he say? It had to come out just right, because it had to accomplish a dual purpose. He could save Dio, and she could save face. Was there even time enough? Every minute was precious, now.

"My Lady..."

&&&&&&&

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, the darkness was broken and the temperature became moderate once again. Dio slowly, cautiously stood on shaky legs, taking deep breaths of oxygen to help him regain his strength for whatever was to come next. He wouldn't allow himself to hope, to believe that he had won, and that someone was coming now to release him. Pressing his ear against the seam once again, his conjecture was confirmed as the chanting continued.

'Wh... what next?'

When the first wave of sound erupted, it felt like someone had slammed him into a wall. He doubled over in agony. Covering his ears with his hands offered little relief; the waves were oscillating at high velocity throughout his entire body. The mental attacks then resumed. The heat and the blinding light returned as well, in full force. Dio put forth his mental defenses once more, but _they_ were now winning, chipping away as they had at his strength, now his resolve, now his very will to existence. On the floor, in the throes of intense anguish, he could only observe in horror as his very consciousness itself was forced deeper and deeper into a corner as his essence, _it_, the thing that was he, himself, was obliterated, bit by bit.

'No... I... am... Dio... Ereclea...'

"I AM DIO ERECLEA!"

Another priest fell.

The battle continued for as long as he could withstand it, but presently he intuitively sensed that he had passed a threshold, a point beyond which he could no longer prevail. He was losing; he could feel them gaining control faster, ever faster. Already, his body...

Dio tried, but couldn't feel his legs. They buckled, and he fell to the floor. He lost control next of his arms and hands, unable to even lift them from his prone position. The sound within the chamber had by now ceased, but the pressure inside his skull was unbearable. He was finally giving up his last, his mental and psychological exhaustion having now caught him.

Acceptance.

'So... this is... the end of me.'

Understanding that he had only a very short time left, he completely gave up his struggle and used his remaining sentient moments to recall the significant points in his much-too-short life.

Those people he had met, and had bonded with, who turned out to be so important to him flitted across the shrinking screen of his inner vision.

The girl, Alvis.

He had treated her poorly, and she had baked him a cake. She really was an angel. He smiled at the memory of his party even as a tear escaped down his cheek to splash onto the floor. Although the chamber was dead silent now, he didn't hear it because he couldn't. His hearing was gone and he was now rapidly losing his vision.

'Alvis. I hope you survive and grow up to be the beautiful young lady I know you will be.'

Lavie.

He had so smugly regarded himself superior to her once he observed her 'red-out' condition in combat. But as he followed her more closely, he came to realize that her heart was large enough to more than offset any condition that plagued her. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, that one. Almost the complete opposite of himself, once. That pitiful van-ship meant so much to her that he had no choice but to help her improve upon it, as much as she would allow him. He tried to smile, but found he could no longer do so. He thought once again of Lavie, and how they had been like oil and water, once. And she did _so_ love Claus...

Claus.

They had been combat adversaries, then they came to an understanding regarding each other, then they became friends, then very good friends. He hoped Claus wouldn't do something impulsive and reckless, like confront his sister head-on. In another life, another time, they could have become really, really close. Why, as close as he and...

Lucciola.

Dio's memory of his last act against his friend had been to strike him in the face. Dio's heart lurched at that thought. DelPhine had brought a mini-battalion along with her. Any action on Lucciola's part against her would surely have meant many more casualties. Only in hindsight could he imagine how his dearest friend's heart must have been torn in two, having been rendered so helpless.

'Lucciola. My dearest, dearest Lucciola. I'm so sorry. For what I've done, for what I have _not _done, and for the fact that I won't see you ever again. I... I...'

The lights were as bright as they ever were, but for Dio, it was getting dark. And cold. In a few more seconds, he would be no more. Delphine had desired a more 'docile' Dio, and she would now have him. Oddly, he felt no enmity towards his sister. Instead, with his last coherent thought, he wished peace to her tortured soul.

Before they obliterated him, before he could be crushed into nonexistance, he accepted and released himself to his fate.

He let go. And bravely passed through the veil into the unknown.

Free.

The machines inside the chamber hummed a different tune, now. They began their task of reconstructing what was once Dio Ereclea into the puppet/weapon Delphine had demanded. Within the hour, the chanting of the priests ceased.

Presently, the metamorphosis was complete...

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Takma-rierah: Thank you. She is quite the unique character study.

Daenis TooShy: Thanks. This was Dio's story, but I wanted to explore the other's feelings a bit as well.

MissSpiritrawtheCream: I considered the points made in your email, and the bit of interaction between Delphine and Cicada is for you. Arrigatou.

ShortPoet: Your reviews, as always, serve to make me work harder, because your standards are so high. genuflects Gracias!

Zelosfangurl: Thank you, though I fear you will be even more depressed with this episode.

Cynical Chaos: High praise from one of the best authors I've read on this site. I'll keep working harder. Thanks.

Trinity Morgan: By your command, I hope this wasn't too long a wait.

Everyone else: Thanks for reading!

W.


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